This is part of a larger series involving the interface of consumption. How it will all link together I'm not quite sure as of yet. I don't know if you have worked this out or not, Dear Reader, but one of the rules I've set for myself in writing on this blog, no matter what series it is, has no predefined structure or draft writing, apart from thinking about it for the 45 minutes I'm on the elliptical at the gym beforehand. This is me winging it, just to get this stuff out of my head; any editing I do is on the fly. When and if I write properly, later on, I'll have all this to use as reference. For now, Blithering Ahoy.
I've already talked a bit about the very basic interface of doors a little while ago, and now I would like to discuss another physical interface we use in consumption, that of tableware. The manner in which humans consume their daily nourishment says a lot, I think, about their cultural relationship to said nutrition, and we can learn from examining it.
There are, to my mind, four basic utensil systems for the consumption of food. The first and most basic, and most likely still the most prevalent worldwide, is to use the utensil systems with which we have been issued at birth: our hands. I can't think of anyone, in any society anywhere, that doesn't eat at least some foods by hand. There's even a common English name for it: "Finger food." Every day, we eat something by simply picking it up and shoving it directly into the face hole. I myself, not five minutes ago, ate a banana by this method.
It's really one of the benefits of having hands, as any simian can tell you, or will if the speech center of their brain is properly developed. Hands are brilliant, and can do so many amazing things. You can form a scoop to eat a biryani right from the dish, or make that weird inverted-pyramid thing with your fingers that we do when we grab a piece of cake directly from the serving plate, or, if your fingers are small enough, you can stick a pitted olive or a Bugle corn snack on the end of each one and nom them while watching Speed Racer. Or that might have just been me at age 5.
Just barely one step removed from eating with one's hands is the concept of wrapping the food in another food, held in one's hand, and eating that way. This is where we get sandwiches, wraps, harumaki, and other delectables. Tuna salad, for example, is messy and problematic to eat with the fingers. So is Ossetra caviar. But wrap that tuna and mayo in a lettuce leaf or put that fishy jam on a toast point, and you can eat it for days without spilling a drop. This is also the source of the pinnacle of modern cuisine, the taco.
So the first two utensil systems aren't actually utensils, per se. The third one is, although just barely. Chopsticks are used around the world, and have been in use for at least 6,000 years. It's not hard to see the evolutionary line that goes from stick used to poke/stir/subdue food in the pot, to using two sticks for better purchase, to eating with said sticks to prevent burning your mouth, to using them to scarf down a Spicy Teriyaki Chicken with a side of Gyoza from Paul's Teriyaki in Federal Way, Washington, arguably the finest teriyaki shop known to mankind. (You would think that, living in Japan, it would be easy to find proper Seattle-style teriyaki here. You would be wrong.) Every day, millions and millions of meals, possibly billions, are consumed using chopsticks.
Finally, we have the Western knife-fork-spoon combo, the most recent of the group at only a handful of centuries of age. We Westerners tend to think of this setup as being the best of the bunch and the easiest to use. We enjoy using the Sharp Cutty Thing, the Stabby Gimmick, and the Tiny Bowl on A Stick for all our foods, as it gives us a wide range of options for quickly transferring food to mouth on those occasions when simply grabbing a fistful of Lobster Thermidor and mashing it into one's head might be seen as somewhat gauche. It's also quite difficult to eat Kix with milk without a spoon.
These are all tools that serve to establish our relationships with food, in some way. Some of it has to do with material availability. Most households had access to some wood and rudimentary carving tools, so making chopsticks wasn't difficult. Western utensils started with the aristocracy and worked their way down as materials such as stainless steel or silver plate became cheaper. I think the history of Western utensils seems to indicate a desire to keep food at a remove from one's person. For quite a large period of Western history, eating was seen as a rather revolting and physical act. Given the state of both the average set of teeth and refrigeration technology at the time, they might have had a point. Food was meant to be consumed quietly and carefully and in dainty, controlled bites. The same went for many Asian cultures, as well. Keeping your food at the end of a long stick might be the best.
Of course, the people in the street just kept on doing what they've always done, buying and eating food straight from one hand to the other. There's a weird dichotomy here, and it all revolves around that most confusing of customs, table manners. The closer we physically are to our food, the more sensual it becomes, and the more it seems to control us. Keeping our food at the end of some sort of implement seems to create a barrier in our interaction.
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